First Class
by iWatchtv
Summary: Takes place after Nine Lives. Tiva. Now a 4 shot because I got a lot of reviews. Tony deals with the fact Ziva is in Tel Aviv. And has to deal with even more issues when she gets back. NOW COMPLETE.
1. First Clas

**Note:** Nine lives was amazing. Great mystery, great gibbs, great fornell, and most importantly, great Tiva. I mean, so much Tiva is was awesome. Especially the garage scene and the clip at the end were learns hebrew obviously just for her. just so awesome. Anyway yeah. This is what my inspiration from that episode turned. I liek how it turned out. Also, i'm still working about the 48 hours thing for those of you who read it. Now just read and please review because reviews are awesome. I really enjoyed writing it anyway.

First Class

The dim smoke filled atmosphere of the bar cleared as the majority of the occupants slowly began to leave. Of those who remained, there were only a few older men silently nursed beers in scattered seats throughout the room and a group of women near the rear who occasionally broke the silence with a drunken giggles. Then of course, sitting at the bar, was very special agent Anthony DiNozzo.

Tony sat on the bar stool that had supported him for the better part of two hours. During that time, he had had only one sentence, one phrase, running through his head.

First class...first class she had said. What happened to the jump seat of a C-130? Where was the God damn turbulence?

Tony angrily slammed his now empty shot glass on the bar causing a dull thud to resonate through the room.

The other patrons spared only a quick glance. Here, in this place, this late, your problems were generally your own.

"Another one Benny." Tony called out to the bartender.

"The name's Steve."

"Whatever. Another." Steve gave him a dark look as he thrust him the small cup of golden liquid.

Tony downed it in one gulp.

He stared at the bar before him, losing himself in the intricacies of the knotted wood and allowing his clouded mind to wander.

It returned to its prior topic almost immediately. Her.

She was probably nestled in one of those big cushy airline seats that cost more than his first car. His hands clenched. Why was he obsessed with those final few words she had said to him?

Was he angry at the fact she was comfortable? That she was able to travel in style while every flight he had ever been on he had spent stuffed into economy? He pondered that for a moment. No. He was a simple man, but not that simple.

Was he jealous that she had apparently found someone? Someone who her father obviously approved of, a man who was in all likely hood a fellow Mossad operative capable of truly and deeply understanding her? Was he jealous that she had found a lover of her own religion, from her home country?

Yeah, that sounded more like him. He heaved a sigh and stared into the now empty glass, as if not breaking eye contact with it would cause it to magically refill.

It was not as if he was helpless on the romance department. There was that blond last week...no, two weeks ago. Or was it last month? The timeline wasn't important. All that mattered was that he still had the DiNozzo charm, the style, the looks, to get any girl he wanted.

Hell, he was Anthony DiNozzo, he was a legend, a hero. They had a plaque above his bed in his old frat house for least number of nights spent alone. His name was synonymous with player, ladies man, yet here he was, drunk and alone.

"Hey there." A leggy brunette from the women's table had gradually situated herself beside the brooding federal agent. "Don't you know drinking alone is unhealthy?" She smiled seductively.

Tony glanced at her out of the corner of eye, but that cursory glance was all she received.

"Asshole." She muttered under her breath as it became apparent he was not going to respond. She slunk back to her friends to gossip about the cold handsome bastard at the bat.

Tony meanwhile returned to his own convoluted thoughts.

Normally, he would be drinking with McGee, but even he had some excuse. He was going to a video game exhibition or something equally embarrassing for a grown man to be caught doing. Poor McGee. One of these days, he was going to realize that there were better things in life than books and virtual reality. Like sex.

He had nearly asked Gibbs if he wanted a drinking buddy, but when he saw the boss's face, he realized that it was probably best to let sleeping dogs lie. Especially when the dog has big scary teeth and could fire you. After watching Gibbs' car peal out and head in the general direction of the J. Edgar Hoover building, he knew he had most definitely made the right choice.

Abby was now probably at a death metal concert listening to music that was about two hundred decibels above Tony's comfort level. Going deaf was not what he had planned for the night.

And so, Tony had eventually reached this particular bar. Alone. His train of thought had now officially come full circle. Great.

He motioned over to the bartender. It was going to be a long night.

An hour later, Tony half walked half stumbled out onto the street. He wasted a few minutes searching for his keys before remembering that Steve the friendly neighborhood bartender had taken them.

Damn.

He fumbled with his phone for a few minutes before finally managing to dial a familiar number.

"Hello?" An accented voice answered.

"Ziva!" Tony cheerfully slurred. "Yeah, I kinda got my keys taken by this guy...the guy who works at the bar...he, uh, pours things..."

"The bartender?"

"Yeah! That's it! Him. Took my keys."

"Tony, I'm in Tel Aviv, I doubt I could give you a ride home."

"Oh." Tony replied, suddenly sober. He faintly heard another voice, a male voice, speaking in hebrew on the other line. Ziva answered rapidly in the same tongue.

"I could call McGee to give you a ride if you wish." She said, reverting to english. The man spoke again and Tony distinctly heard Ziva giggle.

"No, it's fine. I'll call him myself." Tony heard himself say rather harshly before snapping the phone shut. He gritted his teeth and flipped open his phone letting his fingers hover over the McGee's speed-dial.

"Forget it." He muttered and turned back towards the bar. Ziva's giggle replaying in his mind. Ziva with another man.

He needed a drink.

**Aren't happy endings great? Oh...this wasn't a happy ending...oops**


	2. Hungover

**Note: **Because I got so many reviews, like ten in one day, I wrote a part two. I personally think its a pretty good ending, but if you guys want more, I will give you more. I don't really want to make it a big multi fic, but I have no problem with going to maybe four chapters. That is, if i get reviews. I like reviews. A lot. Anyway, there's going to be the halloween episode this week. Ihonestlywant to see how the writes are gonna deal with Ziva's whole 'secret' Tel Aviv trip. I doubt she's going to bring back the guy from the picture. It was probably just her friend or something showing of his new boat. Idk. Anyway, here we go. Part two.

Hungover

Tony stormed into his apartment slamming the door violently behind him. He kicked over the furniture that lay between him and his couch for good measure as he made his way towards it. He collapsed onto the cushions, snatching a half empty bottle of whiskey on the way down. He grabbed a nearby glass that was relatively clean and poured himself some dinner.

He hadn't bothered turning on the lights on his way in and so he brooded in darkness, the muted bustle of traffic the only audible sounds. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

The day had been pure hell.

For one reason or another, it didn't really matter now, he had slept through his alarm. The look Gibbs had given him when he had seen his senior field agent show up late, eyes bloodshot, and obviously hung over could have killed. It was the closest thing to pure disgust that Tony had ever seen, but honestly, he was past caring at that point.

Even McGee had looked askance at his friend. It wasn't unusual for the man to drink from time to time, or even be late. But over an hour late and hungover? That was unheard of.

Even more disturbing, Tony didn't say a word for the first two hours. No bragging about past sexual exploits, no movie references, not even a flippant remark about McGee's poor choice of a tie. It was unnerving, it was wrong.

McGee, of course, had no idea what could be going on in the mind of Anthony DiNozzo. If he did, he would probably have been unsurprised.

Ziva.

"You drive." Those were the first words he had said to McGee.

Gibbs had wordlessly tossed him a file before heading towards the elevator. Tony scanned it before tossing it to McGee.

"A murder? Should we gear up?" McGee had asked. Tony nodded.

"You drive." He tossed the keys at his companion. McGee was so shocked he failed to catch them.

The rest of the day was a blur, his thoughts too focused on his wayward partner to truly concentrate on anything else.

She was probably in one of those fancy hotels right now, or rolling around in someone else's bed. Maybe even now she was sprawled on the deck of the boat that had featured so prominently on the picture from her desk. Even worse, she might be with the man from that picture.

But then again, she was his partner, he should be happy for her. If she found some tool that satisfied her, who was he to disapprove?

Right. Because he was totally the self sacrificing saint type.

Maybe he should fly to Tel Aviv, just to satisfy his own curiosity. Yeah, that would go over well. Ziva would kill him, then mail the pieces back to Gibbs so he could be killed again. At least he could die happy. Relatively happy anyway.

He just had to know, who was this person who was so outclassed him that she had to fly thousands of miles to see him. Fly thousands of miles first class no less.

Tony growled. He hadn't felt this insignificant for a long time. Being completely passed over by a woman was definitely not something that happened often to him.

Hell, he was probably the last thing on her mind while he couldn't get her out of his. There was little doubt that she was more...engrossed...with some man other than him at the moment.

He hurled his glass at the wall in front of him, watching with satisfaction as it shattered into thousands of pieces. It was a pointless and utterly useless gesture, but it made him feel better. It helped relieve the pressure his thoughts were beginning to push on him.

He slowly rose from the couch and began traversing the darkened room searching for the light switch. He wasn't an expert, but he had a feeling that sitting in the dark thinking dismal thoughts wasn't healthy. He had had enough of it.

When the lights flickered on he surveyed the damage he had done earlier. He threw himself into the cleaning of it in an attempt to keep his mind off of Ziva.

The attempt failed.

Nearly everything in his apartment had some sort of connection to her. As he straightened the table, he remembered the home cooked meals she had occasionally brought over. The couch reminded him of the evenings they had shared watching his very extensive movie collection. The list went on and on.

He finally spotted a pile of mail that had fallen to the floor during his rampage. He gave a bitter laugh. Hopefully, he would get an overdue credit card bill or two. If he was lucky, maybe even a foreclosure or repossession notice. The day had been shit so far, so why not strive for a perfect zero out of ten?

He viciously took out his anger on the innocent letters, ripping the envelopes to shreds and crumpling the majority of the contents. As he tossed the last offer to get a free year of some crappy magazine, he noticed that the only one which remained was a postcard.

It had a night shot of the skyline of a city. At the top, in plain black letters, the words Tel Aviv stared up at him.

He carefully turned it over.

_Thinking of you._

_-Ziva_

It wasn't long, it wasn't wordy. It was simple, to the point. It was very Ziva.

For the first time in days, Tony smiled.


	3. Third Class

**Note:** This chapter may have more than a few errors....my bad. I just didn't really have time to proofread and I really wanted to get another chapter up. Basically, because of all your reviews, this is now a 4 chapter fic. So there's kindofa twist at the end. But know you know there's a twist so its not really a twist.....whatever. Murder 2.0 was good, but a severe lack of Tiva. And even some anti-tiva. Oh well. I can just hope that they really deal with Ziva's vacation. I'd hate for it to be a plotline that goes now where. Anyway, here we go with chapter 3.

Third Class

_Ding_

Tony reflexively turned his head towards the elevator, expecting at any moment for his partner to come breezing in as she always did.

Her flight was due to return today, what time, he didn't know. He could ask Abby to find out exactly what time her flight would land, but that was slightly illegal. And after his performance the last few days, Gibbs was in anything but a forgiving mood. Tony had the feeling that the boss was just waiting for an excuse to nail his head to the wall. Figuratively if he was lucky, literally if not.

He had eased off the alcohol since he had trashed his apartment. Having only three beers instead of five was easing off in his mind. Apparently, Gibbs wasn't as thrilled. Over the years, Tony had heard hundreds of cures for the dreaded morning after hang over.

Headslaps were by far the least effective.

That hadn't stopped Gibbs from liberally distributing them to an unsuspecting senior field agent.

_Ding_

Tony glanced up at the familiar sound. He quickly lost interest when he saw it was only a blonde from a department on the same floor. She was pretty enough, but not really that appealing in his opinion.

According to the look on McGee's face however, she was just his type.

"Close your mouth McDrool. You're gonna short out your keyboard." McGee did as instructed.

"Didn't you see her Tony?"

"Who?"

"Ashley, from accounting." McGee's eyes glazed over.

"We have an accounting department?" Tony's question went unanswered as McGee continued on.

"A double masters in cellular biology and computer forensics."

"Great. A female you. Have fun."

"You don't understand Tony, she's everything you could want in the woman. Did I mention she was also Miss Virginia?"

"That's just sick."

"What? That she was a beauty queen?"

"No. The fact you know she was a beauty queen. Are you stalking her McCreeper?"

"No, we talked yesterday." McGee replied absentmindedly as he tried to attract the woman in question's attention. He finally succeeded and waved frantically while grinning like an idiot.

Tony meanwhile shook his head in disgust. Sometimes he almost felt optimistic for the probie's futures. Then there were times like these when he didn't.

Now where the hell was-

"Ziva!" Tony was snapped out of his reverie by McGee's cry of welcome.

Sure enough, strolling silently down the hall was his complicated partner.

McGee quickly stood up to properly greet her.

"Hello McGee. Tony." She beamed, her accent slightly stronger than usual. "Miss me?"

"I honestly didn't notice you were gone." Tony held for a moment before breaking out into a smile. "It was pretty quiet without you."

"Not as quiet as I was hoping." Gibbs commented dryly as he appeared at the other end of the bullpen. "Welcome back Officer David." He nodded towards her.

"Good to be back." She answered.

Gibbs turned to the other two.

"If you're done, grab your gear. Wh have work to do." He headed towards the elevator, a chorus of 'yes boss' echoing behind him.

"I got your postcard." Tony whispered in his partner's ear as the three followed Gibbs towards the elevator.

Ziva smiled.

"I am glad. I wanted you to have a taste of Tel Aviv."

"No offense but I'd rather have a taste of-" Ziva's elbow kept him from finishing his sentence.

"Postcard? Why didn't I get a postcard?"

They ignored him.

Gibbs smiled as his team filled the elevator space behind him.

Just like old times.

*****

At the end of the day, only Ziva and Tony remained in the office, finishing the day's report. Thankfully, not all murderer's were smart, in fact, some were quite stupid, allowing them to finish this case in a single day.

"So," Tony began as he printed out his case report, "You never did say how your trip went."

"Fine." Ziva answered, still concentrating on her own paperwork.

"Did you get any...sailing in?" She gave him a strange look.

"Yes, actually I did."

"With tall dark and hairy I presume?"

"What are you-" She froze for a moment before narrowing her eyes. "You went through my desk?" It was more statement question.

Tony shifted uneasily.

"Would you believe me if I said I was looking for a stapler?"

"No."

"Tape then?"

"DiNozzo!"

"Fine, I went through your desk."

Ziva's glare pierced him for only a few moments before she returned to her work.

"It was not a romantic relationship." She finally said, her eyes remaining on her computer. "He was Tali's best friend. I returned to Israel for her memorial. The anniversary of her death, I believe you call it, was last week."

"I'm sorry Ziva. I didn't know."

"There is one more thing I think I should tell you." Ziva paused as if trying to find a delicate way to word this. "On the flight back, I flew economy. First class was too filled with old and boring American business men. I-

Ding

Tony silenced his partner with a gesture and turned his head towards the elevator. It was late; no one should be there except them.

Ziva stood up at the sight of the man approaching them.

"Sam!" She smiled.

"Ziva." He grinned in return.

Ziva turned towards Tony.

"Tony, I would like you to meet Sam. We met on the flight back from Israel."

"Ha, more like she was sitting in my lap on the ride back."

"Those seats are so small, and I needed to lean back."

"If you wanted to have more space, you should have stayed in first class." He paused before adding, "Not that I minded of course." He flashed her a dazzling smile as she laughed. He put his arm around her waist and they turned as one towards the elevator.

Ziva stopped for a moment and turned back to her partner.

"If you have finished your report, perhaps we could walk together to the parking lot?"

Tony offered her a hollow smile.

"I just have a little more to do. You know Gibbs, nothing less than perfection is good enough for him."

She nodded and continued on.

Tony stared after them, a blank look on his face.

"So, you said you life around here?" He heard Sam say as the elevator doors closed.

Tony reverted his gaze to his desk.

The irony of this was just sickening.


	4. Writer's Block

**Note:** So, here it is, as promised. My fourth and final chapter to First Class. The title of this chapter will make more sense at the end, it's not just because I had writer's block for about two weeks for this fic. Even though I did. I kinda like this, but you definitely should tell me what you think of it. I may have tried to do too much in too little space, but I think it works. By the way, is anyone else pissed that they never really followed up the whole "I'm going to Israel for a weak to meet mr. Mysterious." thing? I mean really. I just am hoping that they aired the episodes in the wrong order. Whatever, I'm sure the producers know what they're doing....maybe. For those of you who care, I have a few ideas for multi chapter fics bouncing around in my brain. I've had one for a long time, and the other I thought up recently. They're both pretty good, but the old one is kind of complicated, and i'm not sure I have the skill to do it justice. Whatever. Either way, Keep an eye out for a new one in probably about a week (that's when thanksgiving break starts :)) so yeah. That's it for now. Read and if you like, please review. I'm not picky. you can say anything you want, I really don't mind.

Writer's Block

Ziva slid into her desk quietly in a vain attempt to avoid attention from her partner.

He didn't seem to notice. McGee, however, did.

"Ziva!" He called out cheerfully.

"Hello McGee." She smiled faintly.

"Where were you? You're late. Did you have a date or someth-...oh." He glanced fearfully at Tony as he realized his mistake. The young agent may still be a little naive, but even he could make the connection between Tony's relapse and Ziva's absence.

He was not and had never been the romantic type, but he couldn't help but wonder when they would get together. He loved his life at NCIS, but, except for the gunfights, terrorist threats, explosions, armed robberies and occasional serial killer, it was boring. The sexual tension between the two kept him entertained, if a little frustrated.

He wished there was a way for him to work out his frustration, someway he could put it out there in a tangible form.

His eyes fell on his copy of Rock Hollow.

Oh.

Right.

On the other side of the bullpen, Ziva was bracing herself for Tony's inevitable torrent of jokes, teasing, innuendoes and prying questions about her evening.

Tony glanced up from his monitor.

"How was your date with Sam?"

"Fine."

He nodded and returned to work. Ziva waited expectantly. That couldn't possibly be all he had to say.

She waited a few moments before her curiosity got the better of her.

"That is it?"

"Huh?"

"You ask hundreds of questions when I leave for Israel for a week to visit a friends but when I go home with a man you have but one?"

"You want me to ask about your sex life?"

Yes!" She cried in exasperation. Tony looked askance at her. "Well, no. But you do it anyway. It feels..." She struggled for the word, "odd for you not to."

Again Tony turned away.

"Maybe I'm just not interested."

Ziva let out a bark of laughter.

"You? Not interested in sex? It is more likely for McGee to become a technophobe." Both shot glances at the agent who was furiously typing, seemingly oblivious to them. Probably he was faking it, refusing to be drawn in to what promised to be a very awkward situation.

"True. Maybe I'm just not interested in your sex life." Tony shrugged.

Ziva strode across to his desk, placing a hand on each corner.

"Are you saying you do not find me...desirable Tony?" She whispered seductively.

He met her gaze evenly.

"I never said that."

"Then perhaps you are jealous?" She chuckled.

He didn't answer.

Ziva froze, pretenses forgotten. Was Anthony DiNozzo, the shameless womanizer, really jealous?

"Are you?"

"Wasn't that the point?"

Ziva stared at him taken aback.

"That was why you brought your little boy toy in here, wasn't it?" He continued, avoiding her eyes. "You could have had him meet you outside, at your car, at your apartment, but you told him to come to this specific floor when we were the only ones here."

Ziva was silent.

"Let me tell you something Ziva, I refuse to be manipulated by anyone, even you. I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime." He snatched a few papers lying on his desk and stormed away.

Ziva tore her eyes from his retreating figure and turned towards McGee.

"Can you believe him?"

She received no response. If anything, the young agent's fingers seemed to glide faster over his keyboard.

She heaved a sigh. She would have to deal with this herself.

A few minutes later and Ziva found herself watching Tony mindlessly copy files. She had tried to approach him several times, but had stopped herself.

He was owed an explanation, that much was certain. The problem was, she didn't have one.

Why did she ask Sam to meet her at her desk? Why did she feel the need to flaunt him in front of her partner?

Was it petty vengeance for all the times he had done it to her? No, of course not. She respected him...cared too much to do that to him.

A while ago, she had had a conversation with Ducky and, for one reason or another, the topic had drifted to the subconscious. The good doctor had mentioned something about a subconscious mind, one that operated independently of the conscious mind. He had hypothesized it was that which gave Gibbs his uncanny ability to judge people and situations.

At the time, it had seemed logical to her that such a thing existed. She had many times felt something she couldn't have described warning her of danger...or urging her to trust.

It had happened on that plane when she had sat in front of Sam, and again that morning, something had made her politely decline his invitation to dinner.

Perhaps a part of her was attempting to realize a wish that the rest of her couldn't, or wouldn't, acknowledge.

She shook her head.

Emotions were complicated.

Tony caught sight of her as he moved towards his desk. For a second, it seemed as if he would go to her, but instead continued on.

She quickly followed.

"Tony!" She shouted. He didn't turn back.

She grabbed his arm as they reentered the bullpen, forcibly turning him to face her. Several well reasoned arguments and rebuttals that had been forming in her mind fled.

"For what it is priced, I am not seeing Sam again." She heard herself say, as if someone else had temporarily taken control of her actions.

"For what it's worth Ziva." He corrected her with a faint smile.

Whether it was because she had mangled another idiom, or because of what she had said, she wasn't quite sure.

They had barely reached their respective seats when Gibbs appeared on the catwalk.

"We got a case. Gear up." He called down as he descended the stairs.

Tony and Ziva quickly grabbed their bags and weapons before forming up behind him.

"I do need help unpacking tonight, if you are interested Tony..."

He grinned.

"I'll drive."

"Will it be a first class trip?" She teased.

"Of course."

The three reached the elevator before realizing McGee was not among them.

"McGee!" Gibbs yelled. "Get your ass over here!"

"C'mon probie, we're not getting any younger!" Tony added.

"I'll be there in a minute."

"Any later and you'll be walking to the crime scene." Gibbs said before the elevator doors closed.

McGee rapidly pressed several controls on his keyboard and grabbed the phone.

"It's me." He spoke breathlessly as the woman on the other line answered. "No, I didn't die."

He paused.

"I just wanted to let you know that the writer's block I've had for the last few months is gone."


End file.
